An Unexpected Meeting
by Spillgirl
Summary: A re-rewrite. AU. James and Lily once dated, passionately, intensely, disastrously. Years later, she's engaged, and suddenly the Auror she's set to train is none other than her ex-lover, months before her wedding. Is the past really the past?
1. Chapter 1

_If the caterers can't make it on the fourteenth, can we switch things to the sixteenth? And what about the florists? The date just can't be changed on them out of nowhere. Oh, if Mum were here, she'd be absolutely mad over all these details. I wish she'd—_

"Evans!"

In a back, unused office located on the second level of the Ministry of Magic, a covert meeting was being held. The center of the room featured a long, heavily polished wooden table that was currently packed to capacity with the finest Aurors England had to offer, all squeezed together in uncomfortable tightness without so much room as to breathe, let alone move. As Lily Evans jerked from her thoughts abruptly, she succeeded in elbowing the two colleagues on her either side, eliciting a groan from the one on her right and a dark, sharp curse from the one on her left. Shuffling the papers in front of her in an attempt to look ready to go and at attention, she looked up into the perpetually sweaty, red face of Maximilian Stern, Head Auror and in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and knew from his expression that it was not the first time he'd said her name.

Uh-oh.

Stern was not a patient man, and he was also not a man well renowned for his kindness. He sneered at Lily, not impressed or fooled by her attempt at attention, and in that one look Lily felt that she was not an adult at the age of twenty-one, but a worried student back at Hogwarts about to be scolded for skiving off class. "Do you need a break, Evans, or is it okay for us to continue?"

"Of course you can continue, sir." Meek and humble were two things not commonly attributed to the normally cheeky and fiery redhead, but it was exactly how Lily sounded as she subconsciously sunk a little lower in her chair, fighting off the urge to blush, highly aware that everyone was gawking at her. "I'm sorry."

"Then maybe you could be so kind as to give us the figures on the McCullen raid."

It was all patronizing and fake kindness in his speech, but Lily jumped on it, eager to give her bit of the information he'd clearly been seeking from her as her thoughts had been elsewhere, and she again riffled through the scrolls of parchment in front of her, looking for the paperwork she'd filled out just that morning. Of course, she cruelly could not find it, and the silence of the room became awkwardly suffocating as her search went on and she became more and more flustered, lost in the sea of paperwork before her.

It was finally Alastor Moody, the man at her left she'd just elbowed, who either took pity on her or got frustrated from her lack of results and reached a gnarled hand out, plucking a sheet of parchment from the piles that was miraculously the right one. Lily cast him a grateful look, one the increasingly famed Auror characteristically ignored, and she was for the first time grateful for the magical eye that resided in his empty socket. Normally its whizzing made her feel sick. Now, thanks to its superhuman seeing abilities, she could have kissed him.

She recited the facts dutifully, careful not to skim over the details: that she and a band of Aurors had been responding to a reliable source's tip when they'd raided the McCullen manor and discovered several very suspicious-looking Dark Arts materials, some of which had been transported to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, some which were under investigation by Defense Units as she spoke. It hadn't been an easy task getting the objects _out_ of the McCullen residence, as Death Eaters had shown up midway through the raid, including who appeared to be Mr. McCullen himself, who was currently being pursued by the Ministry, No casualties had been suffered on either side, but it was unfortunate that the Dark Lord's supporters had all Disapparated out before they could be captured.

This had all gone on four hours before at three AM. It was easy to see why Lily was tired and spacey, even if Stern was not.

But at least her report appeased him, as he nodded curtly in approval and then flicked his wand towards the massive chalkboard next to him, where the facts of the case appeared instantly. It dawned on Lily, as she looked at them rather groggily, that he already knew everything he'd asked of her, and had probably just demanded she recite them to either get her attention or embarrass and bully her. She couldn't be certain of either being the complete, honest answer.

She paid close attention for the remainder of the meeting, however, if that had been his intention, or at least as close as her sleep-deprived mind would let her. Once or twice Moody had to prod her with a sharp finger to keep her from drifting off into peaceful relaxation, but she caught the gist of the briefing and jotted down the important things to check at a later date. In all, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. Increased sightings of Inferi. More muggle slayings. The names of familiar You-Know-Who supporters dropped about freely, questioning their involvement in the latest failed attack on the Ministry. The one thing that caught her attention, _really_ caught her attention, was the mention that the group of Aurors keeping tabs on Regulus Black had suddenly lost their trail. He'd vanished, it seemed. Had he finally left the Black home, gone the way of McCullen and joined other You-Know-Who supporters at another location? With a warrant out for his arrest in involvement with the attack on the Ministry, it was imperative they find him.

For the first time in years, literal _years_, Lily thought briefly of Sirius Black and what he'd have to say to the accusations his brother was facing. Probably that they were right and Sirius himself would turn the key to lock Regulus in his cell in Azkaban. The thought made her smile.

The meeting disbanded at a quarter to noon (so much for a briefing being 'brief'), and with coffee on her mind, Lily gathered her many scrolls of parchment in her arms and headed back to her cubicle, noting with some warmth that the brass plaque reading "Auror Headquarters" was tilted to one side, as always. Paper airplanes containing Interdepartmental Ministry memos zoomed in and out of cubicles at an alarming rate, one even becoming lodged in her hair, which she freed the second she unloaded her paperwork across her desk and released the struggling, flimsy thing back into the air. She had full intentions of heading right to the break room for a steaming cup of coffee, but those thoughts were put on halt as she noted the collection of memos on her desk. Coffee would have to wait.

The first three were the summarized notes of meetings, including the one she had just exited. How _did_ they do it? How were some people so productive when she herself was lagging and barely getting through the day? Another was a report from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, informing her that one of the vases they had been investigating from the McCullen raid had turned one of their workers a rather nasty shade of green and had him vomiting profusely, so the report would take longer than expected. Lily sunk heavily into her worn desk chair at that. Stern was going to have a field day.

That last was the best of them all, a memo that actually made her smile, as it had been used for personal purposes and not business, something the Ministry frowned upon severely, not that it had ever stopped her before. The pale violent paper revealed the neat and tidy print of her closest friend at the Ministry, Ellie Harrison, who worked in the Daily Prophet branch, along with a newspaper clipping with the next day's date on it. It was clearly a sneak preview. The picture underneath the heading ("Wedding of the Century") was that of Lily with, as the massive rock on her left finger revealed, her fiancé at her side.

_Even the Minister is getting in on the wedding fever!_

_Yesterday, questioned on her thoughts of her Senior Undersecretary, Ryan Ackermann's, engagement to up-and-coming Auror Lily Evans, the Minister expressed her approval. "I've dined with Ryan and Lily on several occasions. She's very bright, has a great future ahead of her, and they make a lovely couple," Bagnold said, sounding very much like a proud mother. "She's done great things for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Ryan has done great things for the Ministry. It's a wonderful union."_

_Ackerman, twenty-three, and Evans, twenty-one, announced their engagement last fall at the Ministry Banquet, and since then rumors of their wedding have been circulating—_

Lily stopped reading. Resting her forehead in the palm of her hands, she shuffled to Ellie's note.

_Thought you might like to see the finished result. Or not._

_Things are slow here today, how is it in your department?_

_Drinks at the Leaky Cauldron after work? I'll even buy._

_xxx Ellie_

_P.S. Note the sunshine in the windows—Diane in Magical Maintenance had her baby!_

Half-heartedly, Lily glanced over her shoulder, past the rows of bustling cubicles to the windows adorning the far wall, where, sure enough, sunlight poured in on those cubicles fortunate enough to be close. A mother of two herself, it was just like Ellie to be in the know about other people's pregnancies. Lily had no idea who Diane even _was_, but the sunshine was appreciated. The previous week had been wracked with nothing but rain and more rain, the Magical Maintenance's homage to the real rain outdoors. Scrawling a response, confirming the plans for drinks in handwriting that was nowhere near as tidy as Ellie's, Lily gave her wand a flick and the airplane folded itself and took off. She'd just raised herself up again and tucked her wand away, thoughts of coffee once again dancing in her weary head, but she'd barely taken a step when—

"Evans!"

Not _again_.

It was Moody this time, blessed Alastor Moody, and she knew it before even turning around, the tinny stumping of his metal leg unmistakable on the wooden floor. She had trained under him before becoming a licensed Auror, and while she rather liked the gruff old man, he put her constantly on edge as well. She acknowledged his presence as he came with a slight inclination of her head, never sure _what _to call him. "Alastor" was far too informal for a man of his rank. "Moody" didn't seem respectful enough. "Sir," as she called Stern, sounded foolish to her own ears. So he called her Evans, she called him nothing, and it worked out just fine.

"Ruddy leg…" he grumbled under his breath as he approached, and Lily attempted a sympathetic smile she knew was lost on him. Rubbing the joint where his leg met metal, he thrust an envelope into her hands abruptly, nearly causing her to drop it. "Here. I would have sent it Interdepartmentally, but it wouldn't fly. Too heavy. And I figured I'd…RSVP for this…_engagement party_ of yours in person." He said "engagement party" in the same way he often mentioned supporters of You-Know-Who—as if it was a dark and dangerous subject that needed to be stamped out at the nearest possible date.

"You'll come?"

"I'll be there with bells on."

The thought of Moody, in his finest dress robes, toasting to her engagement, was so absurd that Lily laughed aloud, and even he saw the humor in it and flashed a rare twist of a grin.

"New recruits begin training next week," he went on, suddenly all business again, in a tone harsher than usual, maybe to make up for the fleeting show of affection, "And we've got one who requested you specially. His info."

Startled out of her amused thoughts of Moody draped in bell-ridden velvet robes, Lily glanced down at the folder still sitting in her hands, confused and excited all in one conflicted emotion. Who on earth would personally request to be trained by her? She'd only had her license for a good two years and had never trained any of the new Aurors to join the ranks, that duty left up to the Aurors with more seniority. Her stomach gave a queer little squirm of nerves as she pulled back the cover of the 'confidential' stamped folder, to find a very official-looking document, complete with Ministry seal. Clipped to that document was a photograph of James Potter, grinning up at her in his usual asinine way.

Lily nearly dropped the folder.

"Watch yourself, Evans!" Moody barked, her sudden movement startling even he, the most seasoned of Aurors. "What's gotten—"

"I am _not_ training James Potter." It was a joke. Certainly it _had_ to be a joke. However, as her eyes met Moody's, she realized that he was the last person to have an inkling of a sense of humor about a serious topic such as Auror training, and what little color her face had left quickly drained. "Of all the—the _stupid, ridiculous, asinine_—"

There she was, using her favorite adjective to describe him in a sentence. Already he was infiltrating her thoughts.

Moody didn't even inquire what her reasoning behind the outburst was, but cut her off with a swift movement of his gnarled hand, a method he'd often used in her training, and shook his head. "Enough. You'll train him or you'll forfeit your job. You know of Potter's Ministry connections. He went to the Minister herself for his request, and if you refuse—"

It was another sentence that would go unfinished, as Lily, all respect and formalities aside, cut him off once again. "But his Quidditch career," she persisted, trying to hand the folder back to Moody, who blatantly ignored her attempts. "I mean, wasn't he playing for Puddlemere United just last year? He couldn't possibly already be ready for training, even if he quit and began learning right away, it isn't—"

"_Enough_, Evans." For the second time that day, Lily felt very much as if she were a schoolgirl being scolded as Moody glared at her, his teeth ground together in an irritated grit. The man had little patience, and it did not extend to things as foolish as her panicked ramblings. "The boy has _Ministry connections_." Again, he said "Ministry connections" as though they were a dark and dangerous thing, and it could not have been more evident that he did not approve. "This _Potter_—" again, said in such a manner, "has requested you and you'll have to make due. From what I've heard, he resigned from Puddlemere. Don't blame him myself. Rubbish team."

Dizzily, in the back of her mind, Lily wondered when Alastor Moody had started following Quidditch.

"Like I said. Make due or be out of a job. I'll see you at the three o'clock briefing." Apparently thoroughly satisfied with having rocked her world to the core, Moody left Lily to deal with the consequences of his news, stumping away towards his own cubicle.

The redhead collapsed in her desk chair, clutching the confidential folder for dear life, although when she realized she was doing so tossed it onto her desk as if it were contagious. And really, it was. It had just contaminated her perfect existence and carefully crafted life she had built since her disastrous last encounter with James Potter.

_Since when had there been a three o'clock briefing?_

And what on earth was she going to do?


	2. Chapter 2

"You never told me you dated _James Potter."_

Much like Moody before her, Ellie Harrison said James Potter's name in a way different from most others. However, _unlike_ Moody, who spat it out as if it were something disgusting but necessary to deal with, a mere slug of a person, Ellie annunciated each syllable of the name Lily had shied away from for two and a half years as if James were a God on earth, an Adonis among mortals, and it made Lily, quite bluntly, want to vomit profusely.

"I went to Hogsmeade once with Frank Longbottom in the fourth year. Do I need to tell you of all the lads I dated in Hogwarts?" Lily had not envisioned herself being so bitter during her after-work drinks with Ellie, but it was unavoidable. Though never one to rely heavily on alcohol, she drank freely from her glass of sherry that day, blatantly ignoring Ellie's stare, one of awed disbelief. Her day had gone nothing as planned. After Moody's bombshell, no amount of anything good could come of the rest of the workday, and Stern only made things worse, assigning everyone a heavy caseload, herself included. No, scratch that. _Especially_ her, it seemed, which Lily couldn't help but wonder about. Was it his way of getting back at her for her not paying attention during the morning meeting? Or was it all in the stars (not that she'd ever truly understood all that Divination rubbish), the gods' way of messing up her life all in one big snowball of upset?

Sometimes she wondered.

"Um, if all your exes turned out to be world-renowned, incredibly talented and gorgeous Quidditch players, then yes, you _would_ need to tell me." Ellie's day, on the other hand, had gone on smashingly, surprisingly dull and ordinary and convenient, and her cheerful demeanor irritated Lily. If misery loved company, Ellie just wasn't having it. She laughed, something Lily did not join in on, a dimple flashing in her chubby cheek. "Oh, lighten up, Lily. What's so utterly awful about training an ex-boyfriend? It was years ago and you're perfectly content with Ryan now. Maybe you two can be friends now that you're both adults."

The suggestion was so ludicrous it made Lily want to nearly laugh aloud. Or else that was the sherry taking effect. Either way, she snorted quietly into her glass (a very unladylike thing to do) and had to marvel at the length of Ellie's delusions. At twenty-six, four years Lily's elder, Ellie was happily married to a man named Ed who worked in the Department of Magical Transportation, and they had two strapping young boys. They lived in a quiet neighborhood in a nice, two-story home, had picnics together on Sundays, and enjoyed each other's company wholly. Though she'd gained a substantial bit of weight through both children, Ellie was happy where her life was at, and that reflected in her outlook on everything else. Lily knew, without a doubt, that Ellie could succeed in having cordial, maybe even pleasant, friendships with her exes.

Hotheaded, passionate, vivacious Lily Evans was not that type of person.

"You're delusional," she informed Ellie, although not unkindly, and she had to admit Ellie's increasing laughter was somewhat infectious. She even offered a giggle or two (though, again, that could have been the sherry), but remained set on her beliefs and shook her head. "I have no desire to speak to Potter again as long as I live. The thought of training him? Spending up to a fifteen-hour day with him several times a week? You're not an Auror. You don't understand what this entails. And you don't understand…how things went."

In truth, no one but herself and James Potter (okay, and maybe Sirius Black, as he'd always been hanging around) knew exactly 'how things went' in their department of love. Sometimes, honestly, Lily wasn't sure she ever understood it herself. That was why, as Ellie raised her eyebrows inquisitively and took a drink of her elderberry wine, Lily cut her off before she could ask the inevitable, 'so why don't you explain it to me?'

"Our personalities do not mesh. We argue over the pettiest things. He brings out the absolute _worst_ in me."

Not to mention that she'd once loved him.

Her voice cracked slightly at the end of her last statement, which she attempted to hide hastily with a quick gulp of her drink, although she knew Ellie didn't buy it for a moment. The two sat in silence for a while, immersed in the heavy conversation and thin, scented smoke that came from the Leaky Cauldron's patrons, and finally, feeling she at least owed Ellie a bit of an explanation for acting so mad, attempted to decipher the saga that was herself and James Potter.

"We started dating seventh year, after he'd asked me out for ages. We're talking _years_, El. And it was real good. The arguing we were constantly doing…we were just as passionate about each other. It doesn't make any sense to explain, but it was my first real time in love." She took another drink, and Ellie listened on silently, mercifully not looking at her, as if she knew Lily felt on the spot enough. "We moved in together after graduation, to a little flat in downtown London, and I started prepping to become and Auror. He wasn't real sure what he wanted to do. He wanted to pursue Quidditch, but his father wanted him to become an Auror as well, and he was really torn. He was always real irritable about it, you know, and if I even so much as brought it up, he'd snap. We fought about it, and then started to fight about everything else. Constantly. Suddenly it was like we were no longer seeing eye to eye, and we were fighting about _everything."_

It was harder than she'd expected, truthfully. These were memories Lily had revisited more times than she could count over the years, but never vocally, never to an audience. Granted, it was her best friend, not a troupe of people she didn't know, but her face was still aflame with the embarrassment and hurt she'd harnessed over all the years, and she was disgusted with herself for the lump forming in her throat and the tears that stung at the back of her eyes. After all these years, she was still this big of a pansy? He still had the ability to make her choke up? It was pathetic.

"We had a huge row one night, and I told him we'd take a separation. There was nothing else to do. We loved each other, and I know we did, I know it was love, but we were so _young_. I was only eighteen, he had just turned nineteen, and I know that had something to do with it. I took some things and ended up staying at a friend's house for a few days. Somewhere in that time he apparently turned remorseful, found it fitting to get sloshed, and ended up bringing a girl home. To our home. In our _bed_."

There it was. The climactic ending to the tale, the clincher of what happened, and it was a tearjerker indeed. Ellie conveniently (bless her) found it the right time to turn and dig into her purse for a couple more Sickles, and Lily hurriedly wiped at her eyes with the pads of her thumbs, careful not to smudge her makeup or leave any trace of tears. Just as she cleared her throat, Tom placed another glass of sherry in front of her and another wine for Ellie, and she gave him a shaky smile of thanks.

"Did you catch him?" Ellie still had the decency not to look at her, instead watching her pool of dark wine.

"No. He had enough goodness left in him to tell me, although that's all the goodness he had." Just thinking about that day, and all the days that would come, of James' heart-wrenching pleading to stay, of the difficult task of separating his possessions from hers, of moving out and finding a new place, of cutting him out of her life…it reinforced every doubt she'd had about training him. "He ended up playing for Puddlemere, and eventually got the message to leave me alone. It took a while. I don't think he ever understood that hanging around, begging for me back, reminded me of what we had and what we—not even just him, but both of us—messed up, it was only worse. What if he just does that same thing now?"

For a mother, Ellie was heavily lacking in the advice department, not that it really mattered for her boys yet, aged two and four. Words apparently failed her as she polished off the last of her drink and picked up the fresh one Tom had placed, a sympathetic smile playing over her soft features. "I don't know."

That wasn't what Lily _wanted_ to hear. Lily _wanted_ to hear that she was with Ryan now, that James didn't have the power to do that anymore, because she had moved on and was in love and about to be married. But somehow (those best friend powers sure were strong), Ellie seemed to get that that might not be completely true.

The pair lingered over drinks longer, eventually moving onto better topics as the alcohol lightened spirits, and it was well past nine when Lily eventually got up to fasten her cloak reluctantly at Ellie's suggestion.

"The husband will be wondering where I'm at," she told Lily cheerfully, her cheeks rosy from spirits. "Besides, don't you have a gorgeous fiancé to see?"

And so Lily Floo'ed home, from the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace to her own. The landing was a little shaky, though not unexpected, considering the amount she'd had to drink. As she scuffled out of the sooty fireplace, brushing at her robes and hair, the lone occupant of her one-bedroom flat stirred. Bathilda, Lily's gray tortishell cat, jumped down from her perch atop an overstuffed armchair, stretched luxuriously, and strutted across the thick carpet of the living room to Lily's ankles, where she rubbed lightly, affectionately, definitely a calling for food.

Her flat was small and organized, definitely very much fitting her personality, and it was hard for her to believe that someday soon she'd marry Ryan and leave the place. No longer would she come home to her delightfully cramped, sunny yellow kitchen, complete with all its muggle appliances none of her friends could figure out how to work. The can opener, for instance, which she absent-mindedly always used on Bathilda's food. Prying the lid off and plopping the contents onto a saucer, she set the dish on the floor and then moved the small distance into the bathroom, her favorite part of her flat, and the reason she'd decided to rent the place, located inconveniently in muggle London, at all.

A tiny window to the north let barely any light into the tiny enclosure, a feature she relished. Instead she relied on a single oil lamp to see, which cast an ominous glow on the deep maroon walls. An old-fashioned bathtub, complete with brass clawed feet, sat in the center of the tiled floor, with a toilet and sink on the side. Somehow, after a long day, all stressors melted away in the solitude and comfort of her bath. Dropping her cloak and stripping right there (an uncharacteristic move for the normally meticulous Lily), she resigned herself to a night of a bath, a cup of tea, and an early date with her bath.

Oh wait, what was that Ellie had mentioned? A _fiancé_?

Right after she'd filled the tub and dipped herself into the steaming waters, the unmistakable roar of the fireplace sounded, and a second later (to her displeasure, she found), a voice called out, "Lil?"

Oh Merlin, if Ryan wanted to take her out, he was going to be sorely disappointed. He was rather like her, really—not at all the spontaneous type, very organized and business-like—but once in a while he got it in his head to surprise her, her own plans be damned. He was, after all, a very public figure as the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and appearances out and about were a must. It seemed "Witch Weekly" barely went an issue without their faces plastered onto it. After a year and a half of dating, Lily was more irritated with it than anything.

"In the tub," she answered, trying not to sound as weary as she felt.

Luckily, Ryan had every intention of staying in, as was shown by his casual dress of everyday robes and the bottle of wine in his hand. Without even glancing at his fiancé, he quickly conjured a chair (high-backed with plush plaid fabric) to sit in the doorway of the bathroom. It was somewhat of a routine after a hectic day, she in the tub, him on a conjured chair, talking quietly about their day, while Bathilda scurried around their feet (well, his, anyway), and caught imaginary mice.

Ryan still didn't look her way. He took his time sitting down, and it was only as he tucked the bottle of wine next to him that she realized how uncomfortable he looked in her presence.

Uh-oh.

His blue eyes, literally the bluest she'd ever seen, eventually met hers, albeit guiltily, and he flashed her a quick, unconvincing grin. When she didn't return it with a smile of her own, he bit the corner of his mouth, paused lengthily, and finally sighed. "I'm sorry about Potter. I tried to convince Millicent not to cave to his demands, but you know how much money his family has donated over the years and all the friends his father had. She couldn't say no."

So that's what it was about. The tenseness in Lily's shoulders subsided a little, and she sunk chin-deep in the comforting water. "It's okay." But it _wasn't_ okay, and they both understood that, even if Ryan didn't know the whole story. The saga of Lily and James was too much for her to divulge to him, and she'd never really explained it in full. After all, what was she to say? That he'd been her first love and she'd been certain that he'd be the one she'd marry? How could she tell her fiancé that?

He got up, too looking relieved, and retrieved two glasses from the kitchen. "I thought you might need a drink," he explained, pouring a hefty amount of dark, ruby liquid and handing it to her. He doled out a smaller amount to himself, set the bottle on the floor, and gave Bathilda (skulking around, no doubt looking for more imaginary mice) an awkward pat on the head. He was not a big cat person.

"Ellie and I had drinks after work," Lily admitted, though she sipped the drink nonetheless. A little more couldn't hurt anything, right? "How as your day?"

She'd be ashamed to admit that she didn't listen to a word Ryan said as he launched into a lengthy tale about his day, describing in great detail the people he'd met with, problems he'd handled, and other high up Ministry deals she never cared much about. Ryan's job was his first love, there was no contest there, and while Lily understood he had an important one, it never interested her. It seemed foolish that she was out daily, putting her life on the line to capture Dark witches and wizards and keep the population safe, and yet he, with his desk job, made a salary twice hers. James would have loathed it. James would have mocked Ryan, questioning his manhood, and probably called—

_Shit_. There he was again, infiltrating her mind.

Balancing her drink between two carefree fingers, Lily slung her free arm across her eyes, blocking out the dim light that filtered through the window, and gave a weak smile to Ryan's chuckle at something about "goblin issues," trying to appear as if she was listening. Honestly, she was half-assing it as much as she had been in the morning briefing, but if Ryan noticed, he was politer than Stern and didn't call her on it.

Silence overlapped them when he finished, only the sound of Bathilda's scurrying on the tiles filling the still air, and finally, something dawned on Lily. "You said Potter's father _had_ friends," she noted, removing her arm and looking at him fully. "What does that mean?"

Surprise played over his handsome features. "You didn't hear? Don't you read the Prophet, Lil? Ellie would be mortified."

Actually, Ellie wouldn't give two shits about it, but Lily didn't want to press on that. "Not the society section."

"Or the obituaries either, I see. He passed away…Merlin, must have been five or six months ago. It was a big to-do, with his Order of Merlin, First Class and seat on Wizengamot and all."

Lily took a large gulp of her wine to soothe her sudden dry mouth, although it didn't help, nor did it help the funny feeling in her stomach. She'd never known Mr. Potter extremely well, but had met him on a few occasions when James had taken her home to his family. He was very much like James – tall, glasses, a love to tease under his professional façade – and she'd liked him very much. To think that he was dead and she hadn't even known it was disheartening. _More _than disheartening. "Oh."

And the fact that that was all she could muster made her feel like an absolute heartless bitch.

"I heard that's why Potter quit Puddlemere and went to study to become and Auror, actually," Ryan went on thoughtfully, undeterred by her silence. "He gave an interview, I believe, stating that his father had always wanted it, and he was going to make him proud."

_When did __**Ryan **__start following Quidditch?_

Lily downed the rest of her wine.

It was not that she didn't love Ryan, because she did. He was the most dependable, reliable, honest person she'd ever met, and she knew he'd make a loving husband and make any girl a happy wife. Ever-respectful, as she got up to get out of the tub, he averted his eyes from her bare body, despite that she was his soon-to-be-wife. He was compassionate and very in tune with her wants and needs and always tried to make her happy.

But there was so little _passion_ there.

It felt, to Lily, that they'd already been married at least twenty years. Ryan was the kind of guy who would kiss her cheek and refill her coffee cup in the morning, not the kind who pulled out all the romantic stops and frequently made passionate love to her. He was tame, polite, and straight-forward, the opposite of her in so many ways, and she alternated between feeling like an ungrateful brat and like a trapped, unhappy liar. Either way, she disliked herself.

He stayed over that night, as he often did, and Lily attempted to throw herself wholly into being the sort of girlfriend, no, the sort of _fiancé,_ she knew he deserved: loving, attentive, content.

It was after they made love and lay tangled together, Ryan in a sort of half-sleep and Lily nowhere near it, that she suddenly wondered who James Potter was making love to at night.


End file.
